


The Flash

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking, Flash Fiction, Flashback, M/M, fenris is really bad at comfort but he tries, inappropriate times to be drinking, references to past sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: The wrong move in the bedroom reminds Anders of some past pain. Fenris helps in the only way he knows how.





	The Flash

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a tumblr prompt! Find me on tumblr and send me more prompts: typhonserpent.tumblr.com

It happened in a flash.

One moment, Fenris above him, tongue snaking across pale white canines and those sinful lips. Teeth on his neck. A quick buck in the air, their cocks brushing. Lyrium-lined fingers enclosing both of their members.

It was something about the way Fenris’ hand brushed his ass. Something primal that sent a jolt of thunder through his heart. Suddenly, it wasn’t Fenris above him. It was broad shoulders stuffed into plate mail and thick, calloused, hairy hands digging into him.

And there it was. That face he thought he’d forgotten. The rough hands in his hair. The smell of sword oil and sweat. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. He’d promised himself he would never let this happen to him again.

Anders couldn’t breathe.

The mage started lashing out with his limbs. Anything to fight. Anything to get him off him. He felt the bottom of his foot meet skin and bone. He screamed.

Maybe someone would come help.

Curled into a ball. Protecting everything important. Shaking. Air couldn’t get to his lungs fast enough.

But a templar didn’t back off. A templar would have silenced his voice and bound his hands. He wasn’t with a templar.

His heart was racing like he’d been running all night. Shakily, he brought himself up, finding Fenris on the floor by the bed, clutching the side of his head, blood dripping from his nose to his mouth. A brown bruise was beginning to blossom around his left eye.

Fenris rose to meet his gaze, but Anders couldn’t stand it. Eyes glued to the bedsheets, he stammered, “I …” before scrambling to his feet.

The master bedroom in Fenris’ mansion had a private bath had a small hearth where water could be heated and a square pit where heated rocks could be placed to create steam. More importantly, it had a lock on the inside but not the outside. The tile floor was colder than the clinic in winter, and even moreso as he curled up in bare, sweaty skin.

By the time he caught his breath, he was exhausted. Heart still racing, but bones as heavy as lead. He flinched and gasped when there was a knock at the door.

“Anders?” Fenris called.

Anders squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I know you’re hurting right now, and I’m so sorry. Tell me what will help and I’ll do it.” Fenris continued.

He shook his head. After a moment, he managed to squeak, “You don’t … it’s not your fault. I just …”

Anders sighed. Talking was making his head pound even louder than it had been. It was lucky the room was dark. He couldn’t see anything, and all he could hear was Fenris’ bare feet padding away.

He was drifting in some state between awake and asleep when he heard another knock, followed by, “Mage, I am coming in.”

A ghostly hand phased through the door and clicked the lock. Fenris entered, a bottle of wine in one hand. 

“May I touch you?” He asked.

Anders thought about it. Fenris wasn’t going to hurt him. It was okay. He nodded.

A hand on his back helped him into a sitting position. Limbs still heavy, he curled against the elf. When his nose inhaled fresh soap, he realized Fenris had changed into clean clothes for him. He heard the pop of the wine cork, and Fenris brush the bottle against his hand. Working himself into an upright position, holding himself up with one arm, he lifted the bottle of wine and took several greedy swallows.

It was self-indulgent, immature, and it was exactly what he needed. The more wine he swallowed, the less he cared about what had happened. Fenris was here and holding him and that was all that mattered.


End file.
